"Maybe it's just to impress us."
He'd meant the remark jokingly, but she actually considered it. "Maybe. But my bet is that he wants to make you feel at home. Your mother told him you were wealthy and successful. He probably thinks you drink cocktails every night. Isn't that what all millionaires do?"
He shrugged. His mind wasn't really on Alec. He could smell the salt air on her skin. Her cheeks shone pink, from the wind and the sun. She looked so clean and fresh and … wholesome.
Yes. That was the word for Jenna: wholesome. He'd never imagined until he'd first set eyes on her how utterly erotic wholesomeness could be. She parted that silky yellow hair of hers in the middle and it fell straight to her shoulders in a simple, classic style.
With a finger, very slowly, he lifted a section of that shining hair away from the side of her neck.
Hazel eyes darkened. "Mack…"
"Shh."
He lowered his head and put his lips against her neck, tasted the sweetness of her skin and the tang the sea wind had left there. She allowed the caress, even surrendered so much as to let out a soft sigh.
But he played fair. He didn't linger. He would keep their agreement on the issue of lovemaking.
For the moment, anyway.
He met her eyes in the mirror again. "So. We've got what? Maybe an hour to kill?"
"I've got sand in my shoes. I was just thinking I'd take a shower and change my clothes."
"I'd offer to wash your back for you, but unfortunately…"
"I'd have to say no."
"You wouldn't have to say no."
"Oh, yes, I would."
She left him, disappearing into her private section of the suite. He called and changed the plane reservations from tomorrow to late Saturday morning. Then he prowled the main room for a while, trying not to picture Jenna in the shower, the water cascading over her, running between her full breasts, tracing glittery rivulets along her smooth belly and slithering down into the golden curls between her slim legs.
Finally he went to his own room and took a shower of his own—a quick, cold one.
* * *
Alec had made a giant pitcher of margaritas. They sat on the back patio around a glass-topped table in chairs with floral-patterned cushions.
"Dory always loved it back here," Alec said.
Jenna could understand why. The yard was cozy and well cared for, with a green stretch of lawn and a bougainvillea spilling over the tall redwood fence.
Alec talked about his employment agency, Telford Temporaries, where he and Doreen had met. He'd sold the business just last year. He and Doreen had planned to do some serious traveling.
"We took a cruise, last winter." His eyes had a faraway look. "The Mediterranean. From Lisbon to Barcelona in ten days. We strolled the Casbali in Tangier, went to the Central Market in Casablanca, visited that medieval cathedral in Palma de Mallorca and…" He seemed to shake himself. "Well. Let me just say, we had a wonderful time."
He asked about Mack's life. "Dory mentioned you live in Florida. Are you with some big law firm there?"
Mack said that he didn't practice law anymore and explained how he was able to live on his investments. Lois spoke up then. "So Jenna, do you live in Florida, too?"
"No. I live up north. Meadow Valley. It's a little town in the—"
"Oh, yes. In the foothills. One of the gold rush towns, right? I hear it's lovely there."
"I like it."
"My brother tells me that you and Mack are … friends?"
Jenna began to feel a bit uncomfortable at that point. "Yes. That's right."
Her discomfort increased when Lois asked, "So then, how did you two meet?"
Jenna cast a quick glance Mack's way. No help there. He was sipping his margarita with one eyebrow annoyingly raised. She knew just what he was thinking: Go ahead. Tell her.
And why shouldn't she? There was nothing to be ashamed of.
Jenna sipped from her own drink, gathering a little false courage and her thoughts as well. Finally she said, "Mack and I were married once. We divorced, but it turned out the divorce was never finalized. So now we're…"
"Trying again," Lois provided, her tanned face lighting up and the wrinkles around her eyes deepening as she grinned.
No, not exactly, Jenna almost said. But then she reconsidered. "Trying again" didn't sound bad at all. Why muddy things up with confusing details neither Alec nor Lois needed to know?
Lois had turned to her brother, who sat to her left. "See? Didn't I tell you that they had to be much more than just friends?"
Alec nodded. "You did, Lois. That's exactly what you said."
Jenna sipped more of her margarita and resisted the urge to glance at Mack. She knew what she would see if she looked at him, anyway: humor in his eyes and a big grin on his sexy mouth. She didn't need that.
"A refill?" Alec asked.
Well, what do you know? Her glass was empty. And such nice big glasses they were, too. "Yes, please. These margaritas are excellent."
By the time Lois served the chicken, Jenna was starting to feel just a bit tipsy. When Alec offered another refill, she politely turned it down.
She wished she'd never had that second one, because during the meal Alec said something about the possibility of Mack approaching his sisters with the news that their mother had died.
Mack managed to avoid giving the older man an answer. He did it quite skillfully, saying he'd think about it, but that right now they should just concentrate on getting through the funeral.
Alec, the dear old sweetheart, backed right off. And Lois patted his hand and told him Mack was probably right.
The whole exchange was over before Jenna, in her pleasant margarita haze, could put her two cents in. She would have brought the subject up again, but the moment never seemed quite right. And besides, dangerous subjects were always best raised when a woman had her wits fully about her—especially dangerous subjects that concerned Mack McGarrity.
They left for the hotel at a little after ten. The big car had a very smooth and quiet ride. Jenna couldn't resist leaning back and closing her eyes.
She woke to the feel of Mack's lips brushing her ear. "You planning to sleep in the car tonight?"
It seemed so natural, to make a sleepy sound, to turn her mouth to his and—
She stopped herself just in time. "Let's go in."
His lips were only an inch from hers. And his eyes looked dark and full of sensual secrets that he just might be willing to share with her.
His mouth brushed hers, once, then he whispered, "Did we ever make love in a car? I don't remember it. I doubt that it's something I would have forgotten."
They hadn't, but she didn't tell him that. He would probably only take it as an invitation to try it now.
All she said was "Mack," and she shook her head.
He mimicked her movement, his head going back and forth in time with her own.
Then he turned to his door and leaned on the handle.
* * *
The next day, over breakfast, Jenna told Mack that he really ought to consider getting in touch with his sisters.
He said, "I think that's my decision to make."
"But—"
"Let it go, Jenna. It's not for you to decide."
Though she pressed her lips together in obvious disapproval, she did let the subject drop.
Then, after breakfast, she suggested that she and Mack should take Alec and Lois out that night.
Mack tried to demur. It was about time they had a damn evening alone, he thought.
But Jenna wouldn't let it go. "Call him. He had us over to his house last night and I'm sure it'll be good for him, to get out for a while."
"Did it ever occur to you that maybe he's not in the mood to get out?"
She picked up the phone and shoved it in his direction. "Ask him. Let him answer for himself. And let him choose the restaurant. Someplace he feels comfortable."
Mack let her stand there for a count of
five, holding out the phone and glaring at him. As he made her wait, he indulged in a moment of nostalgia, recalling how sweet and malleable she'd been when she was younger.
Then, with a heavy sigh, he gave in and made the damn call. Alec said that he and his sister would love to go out to dinner with them.
"Now what?" Mack asked, after he'd called the restaurant Alec had chosen and learned that reservations would not be required. "I suppose you have something really constructive planned for today."
She pinched up her mouth at him. "You have some problem with constructive activities?"
"Hell, no. But I'd rather take it easy, enjoy ourselves, just you and me."
"Well, actually, I was thinking…"
"Stand back."
"Very funny. Remember that day we drove down to Seal Beach?"
He did. "It was a Sunday, I think. In June. We had a day off and no money and we got in the car and headed south. We had our swimsuits with us. We changed on a side street, right in that old Chrysler I had. Remember? You made me stand guard while you were changing, though you never did explain to me what the hell I was supposed to do if someone dared to peek in."
She laughed. "Lord. I remember that."
It had been a good day, one of the last of the good days, as a matter of fact. Not long after, Mack had taken the job in New York.
Mack said, "Seal Beach is damn easy to get to from here."
"That's just what I was thinking."
* * *
The drive took less than half an hour. They found parking on a side street, then strolled down tree-shaded, brick-lined Main, wandering in and out of any shops that caught their eye. Jenna picked up a few souvenirs, among them a melon-colored T-shirt for Lacey and a fur-covered toy mouse for Byron. When they tired of shopping, they sat for a while in grassy Eisenhower Park, then chose one of the restaurants near the pier for lunch.
They even wandered over to Surfside Beach to watch the surfers floating on their bright-colored boards, waiting for the perfect wave—which, at least during the half hour that Jenna and Mack observed them, never seemed to come along.
When they returned to the hotel to get ready for dinner, Jenna detoured straight to the phone. No message light.
Mack had carried in the bags of souvenirs. He dropped them onto a chair. "You're expecting an important call?"
"No. I'm just beginning to worry a little about Lacey. I called her and left the number here on Monday. I thought that she'd at least check in, let me know she got the message."
"You think she might be up to her old tricks?"
She sent him a look. "What old tricks?"
"The way I remember it, during the time you and I were married, she ran away from home about a half dozen times."
Jenna jumped to her sister's defense. "She was a teenager then. And she had problems."
"That doesn't answer my question."
"All right. No, I do not think she's run away from home. She's very responsible now. She keeps her agreements. And besides, what good would it do her to run away from Meadow Valley? She doesn't even live there anymore."
Mack muttered something about feminine logic, then added, "If you're worried about her, call her again."
She picked up the phone, dialed—and got her own voice on the answering machine. This time she left a message asking Lacey to please call the hotel right away. She hung up picturing Byron wandering the rooms of her mother's house, starved for both Fancy Feast and companionship.
She dialed Linen and Lace. Marla, her head clerk, said that yes, Lacey had been in both yesterday and the day before to take care of the receipts. Jenna hung up from that call feeling moderately relieved.
Then Mack said, "We've got to pick up Alec and Lois at seven. If you want one of those half-hour showers of yours, you'd better get moving."
"I do not take half-hour showers."
He smiled. Very slowly. "How much do you want to bet?"
"Oh. Right. And then you'd have to time me, wouldn't you? I don't think so."
"You have a suspicious mind."
"Only where you're concerned."
They stared each other down for a minute, then he commanded gruffly, "Take your damn shower."
He looked so … huggable right then, those gold eyebrows scrunched together and the corners of his mouth drawn low. If she hadn't been exercising such care to avoid physical contact with him, she would have kissed him hard and possessively, right on the mouth.
* * *
Lacey did call, just as Mack and Jenna were leaving for Alec's house.
"Hi." Lacey laughed, a breathless sound. "Listen, I promise you, the cat is fine and the store is fine. And I know I should have gotten back to you sooner, but every time I thought of it, it was either midnight or four in the morning or some other totally inappropriate time."
Jenna thought Lacey sounded nervous, even a little bit manic. "Lace, are you okay?"
"Of course. So what's going on? I thought you were supposed to be riding the range in Wyoming this week."
Mack was standing by the door. He lifted an eyebrow at her. Jenna gave him a nod, mouthed, "Just a minute."
Then she spoke to her sister again. "Mack's mother died. We're here in Southern California until the funeral on Friday. Then we'll go to Mack's house in Key West. We're skipping Wyoming, after all. But I'll call you from Florida as soon as we get there."
"Wait a minute. I thought you told me that Mack McGarrity was an orphan."
Jenna glanced at Mack again. He was leaning against the door—waiting with reasonable patience, actually. "It's a long story. I'll explain it all when I get home."
"Is it … going well, between you two?"
Jenna smiled. "You know, all in all, I do believe it is."
"Well. Good." Now, what was she hearing in Lacey's voice? Relief? Satisfaction?
Unfortunately, she had no time right then to ask. "Listen, we're just going out the door, taking Mack's stepfather out to dinner."
Lacey showed no inclination to linger, either. "Okay. Have fun. Call me from Florida."
"I will."
They went to a restaurant Alec liked in Huntington Beach, where the menu offered a dozen varieties of fresh fish each day. Alec seemed very quiet through the meal. He admitted on the way home that maybe he hadn't been ready yet to go back to one of the places he used to visit with Doreen.
Mack glanced significantly at Jenna. She read his look. I told you he wasn't ready for a night on the town.
When they got to the house, Alec asked if they'd like to come in for coffee. Jenna would have said yes, but Mack clamped a hand over her arm. A shiver of excitement sizzled through her, distracting her enough that she didn't object when Mack said, "Thanks Alec. But I think we'll just go on back to the hotel."
* * *
In the suite, Mack found two miniature brandy bottles in the well-stocked bar. He poured one for each of them. Then, brandy in hand, he sat on one of the sofas and put his feet up on a hassock. Jenna wandered to the glass door that led to the balcony and looked out on the harbor lights. She sipped, and couldn't help smiling to herself as she thought that those lovely little island hotels were actually oil derricks.
Then Alec came to mind and she felt her smile fade away.
"Why the frown?"
She turned. Mack was watching her.
He patted the space beside him on the sofa. She started to move toward him, then reconsidered. They probably shouldn't be getting too cozy. She shook her head and murmured ruefully, "Better not."
Mack's jaw tightened. He glanced past her, his fine mouth a hard line. She knew what he was doing: calling himself away from the brink of saying something he might regret. Finally he laid his arm along the sofa back and looked right at her again.
She decided to go on as if the uncomfortable moment hadn't occurred. "I was just … thinking of Alec. How hard it must be for him. They had a lot of years together, he and your mother. And it seems that they were happy years, for the most part."
Mack said nothing.
She could feel his irritation with her and she tried again to brush it off, this time with an offhand shrug. Still, he said nothing. She turned to look out over the harbor again.
That was when he deigned to speak. "Do you want me to agree with you, that Alec has it rough right now?"
She looked at him once more. "You don't have to agree with me, Mack. It's a fact."
"Yes, it is. A fact. And I think we've done about all we can personally do about it."
"I wasn't implying that we should do anything more."
"Oh, come on." He knocked back a gulp of brandy and winced as it went down. "Give yourself a minute or two. You'll come up with five or six ways that we can help to ease the poor man's pain—ways that will give us more very good reasons not to be alone together." He studied her face for several seconds before adding, "You have so many creative methods of avoiding me."
She wanted to argue, but she couldn't. She was avoiding him—avoiding getting too close to him, either physically or emotionally. And why shouldn't she? She had carefully specified separate rooms when they'd set up this little two-week adventure. He'd agreed to her terms. There was no reason she should feel defensive about sticking to them.
But she did feel defensive. "You're irritated because I didn't sit beside you just now? Is that it?"
"Partly. You're constantly putting physical space between us. And you don't limit yourself to space. You put Alec between us. And my sisters, too."
"How?" she demanded, feeling suddenly self-righteous. Physical space, certainly. Alec, maybe. But his sisters? No way.
"If you could only get me to agree to it, we'd be spending the second half of our two weeks enjoying a little family reunion with Bridget and Claire." He swirled his brandy around in his glass, then sipped again. "Go ahead. Tell me that isn't true."
She couldn't. Because it was. She cleared her throat. "Well, Mack, I do think that you should—"
"Jenna, I know what you think. You've made it painfully clear. Will you give it a rest now?"
"But I just—"
He set his glass on the table, and not gently. "Damn it, Jenna. I am not going to hunt down my sisters. Look what happened when I found my mother. She asked me not to tell her husband that I existed. And then she died."
THE MILLIONAIRE SHE MARRIED Page 10